


Untitled #2

by crediniaeth



Series: The Untitled Series [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-27
Updated: 2008-03-27
Packaged: 2017-10-06 20:05:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crediniaeth/pseuds/crediniaeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You run like your life depended on it. The only sounds you hear are your labored breathing and your voice calling out his name again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled #2

R.

\-----

Sitting in the back row, you listen to the service playing out before you. You haven't been to something like this in a while, neither has he. But the two of you are there together, friendly faces all around. There's smiles. Contentment. A shoulder to smile into when it's too reverent in the room to laugh.

But something happens, and he leaves. You don't know why you stay fixed to your chair. He's important to you; for those few precious moments, he's your entire world. But you stay; you let him walk out the door into the darkness.

You regret it instantly.

You leave behind your friends, the folding chairs, the worship service, and you follow him. You pass through the doors of the small backwoods church and find you're alone. You call out his name, the name that only you've called him since childhood, but only the darkness answers back. You run down the dirt road until it divides. You choose the road that goes up the hill back to town; it's logical. Like he is.

You run like your life depended on it. The only sounds you hear are your labored breathing and your voice calling out his name again. And again. And again. You barely register coming to the crest of the hill and the twinkling lights of the city below, lights that always made you smile. You just keep running. You run to the hotel he's staying at and search the crowd for his face, but there are too many people. So, you climb the staircase made of tile and wrought iron, praying that elevation will be your salvation.

And it is.

You spot him standing next to the staircase, and berate yourself for not seeing him sooner. You quickly make your way down the stairs, calling his name.

He looks up. He smiles. He takes your hand and pulls you into his arms. He cups your cheek and kisses you softly; the issue that caused him to leave the church obviously forgotten. He takes that same hand and leads you up that same Spanish tiled staircase until the two of you stand in front of his door. You can't help but notice the paleness of his skin standing in bright contrast to the aged wood.

He unlocks the door, turns the handle. He smiles back at you, your two hands still intertwined. You return the favor and lean in to kiss his cheek, a chaste preview of what you hope will occur, once the two of you cross the threshold.

He must have the same idea, because you find yourself pulled through the open door almost immediately.

He closes the door behind you, his eyes never leaving yours.


End file.
